The man in my life (cited here under the tags "goodbyes," "sighs," and "vaginal sobbing.") will be home on Monday. For those on the outside: he has been in France since the middle of May.
We are going to do terrible things to every surface of my apartment. If I do the math, at the rate we were going before he left we have roughly (at least) 100 hours to make up for.
Consider this post a public apology to my poor room-mate. Even though I'm not really sorry.
This is basically the reason why I don't have roommates, oh, that and dishes.
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